I just looked up my therapist from close on 30 years ago and found his obituary. He was 93 when he died last year. An amazing man, he brought me from darkness into a place of peace with my past.
The thing is when I seek this kind of help I'm always hesitant and almost apologetic. So much serious crap in the world and here I am sullying your doorstep with my trivial concerns.
Was I set to rights rather quickly with my case review yesterday. Dr. Patrick (pseudonym)looked at me intently and said:
"I have rarely seen anyone in my long practice with so much devastation in 8 months. Actually, come to think of it, never."
And I bawled my eyes out when he said "you've lost 3 anam caras", using the Irish language. Anam cara means, literally: friend of my soul.
And over an hour and a half I poured my heart out and he said to me then:
"The privilege in my job is that I really, really get to know dead people and the families supporting or abandoning the bereaved."
And he proceeded to gently cast a light on behaviours that have hurt and baffled me and the ongoing pain and loss of creativity that have me plagued and the overwhelming tides of grief that take me unaware.
He told me to try and find one small moment in every day that brings me a sliver of joy until he sees me again.
I feel the beginning of hope and renewal today, a little match struck in the darkness.